


Chamaeleontis

by Enchantable



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Injury Recovery, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantable/pseuds/Enchantable
Summary: “So you know me?” He says.“Well, no,” she tells him. She looks over and shakes her head, “men,” she mutters and lowers her voice, “I recognized you.”“From?” Maria prods“Alex had this picture,” she starts.Michael chokes on his beer.





	Chamaeleontis

**Author's Note:**

> Original Prompt: One of Alex's airforce buddies not knowing who "Guerin" is but knowing exactly who "Michael" is.

“Who are they?” Michael asks.

Maria glances over at the group, not needing him to elaborate on who ‘they’ are. He’s got a suspicion but he wants to be sure. Why he wants to be sure, he can’t say. This has nothing to do with him. The minuscule head-shake Alex gave when he walked in made that pretty fucking clear.

“Alex’s air force unit,” she says. In a kindness he doesn’t deserve she smirks, “they make plane noises every time I bring them shots.”

“Cliche’s just keep coming,” he mutters, knocking back his beer.

“Tell me about it,” she says looking at him for a moment too long before she perks up. “What can I get you?” She asks.

“I’ll take a jack and coke,” he says. He glances at Michael and does something of a double take.

“Ignore Guerin,” Maria advises, rescuing him from some awkwardness, “he’s just going to pick a fight to get out of his tab.”

The man looks surprised but nods at both of them, takes his jack and goes back to his buddies. Michael has given up on what people here think of him and Alex won’t acknowledge him in front of his buddies. He knows he shouldn’t care what they think of him. He refuses to turn and look but Maria glances over and her eyes narrow slightly. His resolve caves and he sees Jack-and-Coke has pulled someone off to the side and is talking to her. She rolls her eyes at something and moves away, shaking off the guy’s attempt to stop her. He risks a glance at Alex whose got pure panic starting on his face. Michael turns from him because he deserves that. The girl isn’t bad to look at and Michael knows that sex can get him into trouble but if he’s inviting that trouble in—

“You’re Guerin right?” She says.

“Depends whose asking,” he says with a smile that earns him a swat from Maria’s dishtowel.

“He’s Michael. I’m Maria. We’re friends of Alex’s. I hope Alex has only told you good stories,” she says with a laugh Michael can only smile along with, “you’re in his unit?”

She glances back and Michael follows her gaze to see every single one of them is glancing at the exchange. Alex has gone silent and looks like he wants to murder the beer in front of him. Worse, he looks like he wants to disappear. Maria’s smile slips and she looks worried. Michael can be an ass but he flat out refuses to get anywhere near the ballpark of Jesse Manes. He’s not ruining Alex’s night. He sets down his beer and looks at Maria whose worry turns to a full on scowl.

“Put it on my tab,” he says.

“You lost tab privileges,” she says, “how much you got on you?”

“My winning smile,” he says.

“I’ll get his beer,” the woman volunteers, reminding him she’s still standing there.

“You don’t have to—“

“I insist,” she says.

“I’m sorry,” Maria looks at her as he’s still trying to object to the charity from one of Alex’s friends, “what did you say you did?”

“I didn’t,” she says, “I’m a medic,” she explains.

Michael freezes on the chair. Maria’s flirtatious pose shifts to something far more genuine. They look at each other. It’s not as if Alex talks about a specific day. Michael doesn’t even know if soldiers celebrate days like this, though it seems like they might. He feels woefully outmatched in this strange world, but his curiosity gets the best of him and he forces his defense mechanisms back before Maria can give him a warning look.

“So you know me?” He says.

“Well, no,” she tells him. She looks over and shakes her head, “men,” she mutters and lowers her voice, “I recognized you.”

“From?” Maria prods

“Alex had this picture,” she starts.

Michael chokes on his beer.

It’s a good thing there’s a medic because he can’t fucking breathe. Maria swears as half his beer comes out his nose all over the bar. He just does his best not to go all telekinetic over everything. One life shattering revelation is more than enough for tonight. Fortunately he’s got an air force medic standing there. So all he needs to do is go unconscious and she can save him. He sputters and coughs and of course the universe is really determined to tell him to go fuck himself because the hand that lands on his back isn’t the nice air force medic he was potentially planning to seduce. It’s Alex. Who despite being a monumental dick is glancing around to make sure Michael hasn’t outed himself.

“Picture?” He wheezes at the medic. She presses her lips together and he turns to Alex, “what picture?”

Alex opens and closes his mouth several times. For a man whose been adamant about hiding everything when it comes to his sexuality and Michael in particular, the notion that there’s a picture of him somewhere in the desert isn’t something he can wrap his head around. He looks at Maria for an out but she’s watching this as hungrily as any of the air force people. Alex finally pulls his wallet out and holds out the same god damn picture Michael has in his trailer. The sight of the guitars makes his hand ache, but not as much as the water damage. Or liquid damage. He imagined it wasn’t rusted water that browned the corners. He can barely grip the photo without damaging it further or touching a place he knows was covered in Alex’s blood. He coughs into his elbow and  a nauseating thought occurs that somewhere a world away Alex was choking and looking at the picture. He shoves it back at him. Alex slips the thing back into his wallet with so much care Michael wants to demand to know why the picture gets to be around him more than he does. He knows the answer. He doesn’t fit like that photo does.

“I knew I should have listened to Isobel when she said I needed a haircut,” he mutters and turns back to miss medic, “how’d you find it? I’m guessing Alex wasn’t showing it around.”

“I’ll let him tell you that,” she says, “come join us after.”

Alex sits down next to him and rubs at his leg. Michael’s not sure if it’s a mental thing or if he’s cycling through another prosthetic. Alex has made it clear he doesn’t have the right to ask. If its the anniversary of it though, Michael has a feeling it’s mental. It took him a good few years to not have that vicious ache in his hand right before that day. The other ache it brings up isn’t so easily escapable. Alex folds his hands and looks straight ahead.

“It was in my flak jacket.”

“Jesus, Alex,” he swears, glad he’s not about to choke on anything but his own crushing disappointment, “you carried a picture of us?” Alex has the grace to look slightly embarrassed at the fact that he’d carry a picture but not speak to him. “What the hell? Why?”

“A lot of soldiers do it,” he protests

“Yeah they also write letters and do skype calls. Why?”

“I needed something!” Alex says. Michael scoffs, “I couldn’t have you,” he continues, “this was the only thing i could think of.”

“Well i guess it’s easier to walk away with something that fits in your back pocket,” he sneers and Alex recoils.

Michael says he’s perfectly justified in being pissed about it, but the wounded expression on Alex’s face brings him a lot closer to Jesse Manes territory than he ever wanted to be. Hurting him in any way has never been something Michael’s tried to do. His stomach hurts at even slightly crossing that line. Maria’s expression is somewhat neutral but when their eyes catch she comes over. He shakes his head because he did not send out the call for help she’s interpreting. Alex pauses half getting up and Maria sighs. He sits back down.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see this before,” she says, shaking her head, “you two are as subtle as Guerin’s hat.”

“Hey!” He objects half heartedly.

“How come you don’t want to introduce him to your buddies?” She asks, “they seem to know he’s important to you,” Alex flushes, “is it the shirt?”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” He demands.

“The top 5 buttons?” Maria asks. Michael scowls and she smiles back in a way that’s sweet like arsenic, “what else?” Alex says nothing, “look I get it’s weird knowing you slept with the town’s resident genius/cowboy/manhoe—“

“I’m right here!”

“But once you tell the first person, it gets easier. And everyone benefits from communicating. Secrets lead to awkwardness, Alex, I don’t like that in my bar. Happy people tip better with less talking.”

“Look i’ll solve this right now. Goodnight to both of you,” he says, standing up.

A chorus of disappointment echoes and he turns to see the airmen all looking at him. He looks at Alex because while they seem great and he could personally kiss every one of them for saving Alex, he’s only got one reason to go over there. Alex holds his gaze and Michael knows what he’s going to say. He can’t stand it though. Not knowing about the picture or how close Alex came to dying. So he turns away, for the first time properly, and gets the hell out of there. He drinks something harder and tells himself it doesn’t count. If Alex wants to live a lie, Michael doesn’t need to spend his time searching for the truth.

He wakes up a later to a knock at his door. Fuck him if he knows who that is. He wants to roll over but he also wants to see Alex. Its the ultimate catch-22. Seeing Alex wins as always. Maybe if he catches up with his drinking they can hate fuck and blame it on that. He opens the door to find one very agitated airman, which he expects. And several other cars, which he doesn’t. He wants to make some joke about project shephard and probing but it dries up when Alex steps forward. Irrationally Michael would take the probing at the moment than having him in his space without permission.

“How much have you drunk?”

“Nothing!” Alex says, “i fucked up. I’m sorry. I got scared,” Michael sighs and stops just short of rolling his eyes, “they found the picture because I was holding it. It got me through the medvac back. I was going into shock and when I focused on this I could get through the pain.”

“That’s not fair,” Michael says, the livewires twisting in his chest, “that’s not me.”

“I know,” Alex says, “i know. But you’re—“ he stops, “you. You’re here. This isn’t more important,” he says. Michael raises a disbelieving eyebrow, “it’s not!” Alex says, fumbling with his wallet. Michael stares as he gets the picture out and tears it in half. Michael’s jaw falls open, “I don’t want the picture.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Michael says.

“I know,” Alex replies, taking a deep breath like he’s set down something impossibly heavy. “i don’t know what to call us,” he tells him.

“Complicated?” Michael offers.

“Cosmically complicated?” Alex says, so low Michael almost misses it. He has to fight not to laugh. He can already feel his resolve weakening, “it doesn’t matter to them.”

“I’m so glad,” he says around the old hurt.

“It matters to me,” Alex continues, “i don’t want this to be some undefined thing for—-however long you’re here.”

Michael’s eyes narrow at the flash of pain. He files it away for later because when Alex gets all stubborn and talkative, short of an alien spaceship Michael has yet to see him pause. Alex swallows and meets his eyes.

“That’s everyone who was with me and helped save my life. You’re not your picture and I know it’s not fair and I messed up, but please come meet them.”

Michael kicks the door open a bit wider until Alex gets the message and holds it. He snatches his bigger copy of it and comes back to him.

“You’re right,” Michael says, “you did mess up. Alex stares as he holds out the picture, “I’ll make you a copy,” he says. Alex looks down. “Just call me Michael,” he says. There’s such hope in Alex’s eyes when his head flies up, “that’s my name.” He scrubs his face with his hands, “lets go,” he says.

“Literary reference?” Alex tells him as they head to the cars, “Does Max know you read Moby Dick?”

“Don’t push it,” Michael warns him as his friends clamor out of their cars, “you think this intro is awkward—“ he trails off as Alex looks nervous for a moment before he takes control.

“Amelia this is—“ Michael takes pity.

“I’m Michael,” he says, “it’s a pleasure.”

He’s an alien, after all, not a monster.


End file.
